


The Spark of You

by genmitsu



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Attempt at Humor, Drinking Games, First Kiss, First Time, Lucius Fox is a Mary Poppins kind of drunk, M/M, Overstimulation, Self-Esteem Issues, but you know me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-07-06 01:42:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15875880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genmitsu/pseuds/genmitsu
Summary: For Gobblepot Summer 2018 event.College drunk shenanigans take an unexpected turn.___It’s past eleven on a weekday and Oswald tries so hard to concentrate on his notes and diagrams, but the inhuman wailing and screeching just won’t stop. It sounds like an angry ghost of a miserable drunkard is getting murdered all over again, and is it really so much to ask for stuff like this to happen when Oswald doesn’t have to study for an upcoming exam?





	1. Notice Me Yet?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, the original idea blew up on me all out of control and became bigger than I intended. Hope you have fun reading it, because I totally enjoyed writing this :)

 

 

It’s past eleven on a weekday and Oswald tries so hard to concentrate on his notes and diagrams, but the inhuman wailing and screeching just won’t stop. It sounds like an angry ghost of a miserable drunkard is getting murdered all over again, and is it really so much to ask for stuff like this to happen when Oswald _doesn’t_ have to study for an upcoming exam?

Trying to block it out, Oswald reads on. Observations that can be counted - wail - constitute the discrete data - wail, wail, screech - and observations that can be measured constitute the continuous data. Examples of discrete data… -screeeeeeeeeeeeeech - No, this is impossible.

Oswald drops his textbook on the desk, gets up and stomps out into the corridor. He listens closely to pinpoint the direction the sounds come from and it seems like it’s on his floor, and he marches down the corridor until he stops at the room 203 right in time with the newest screech and wail combo. He grabs the handle and finds the door unlocked, so he just throws it open and barges inside.

“What in the blazes is the meaning of this racket?!” he demands right away, not letting the scene before him distract him from being righteously angry.

The scene is something though. There’s Bullock, clearly drunk and unpleasantly disheveled, laughing his ass off at the sight of his buddy, James Gordon, red and sweaty with effort of struggling with what seems like humping of a bagpipe. Lucius Fox is also there, laughing, and really, Oswald expected better of him than to be drunk in this company.

“There are people here who are trying to study and your noise is not helping!”

“Relax, Cobblepot,” Bullock huffs, “you’re getting your panties in a twist!” And he slaps his own knee and starts laughing again as if he’d said something hilarious. Oswald just looks at him with contempt.

James lets go of the bagpipe at last and tries to say something but his mouth just moves soundlessly, and he makes a face, rubbing at his lips.

“Sorry, Oswald,” Lucius sobers up enough to gather his wits. “We’ll stop now.”

Oswald turns to him, seemingly the only relatively sane person out of this bunch. “Please do. I trust that reporting all three of you for disorderly behaviour will not be necessary.”

He turns and closes the door after himself on the way out but not before he hears Bullock say “Man, what a tight-ass. He should learn to loosen up!” Oswald scoffs, but what good will arguing with a drunk bring him or, for that matter, his studies? It’s completely irrational. But he will have to think up some choice words for their next meeting, because this is offensive. He’s always the subject of ridicule on campus, but being mocked for actually wanting to study? What does he think the purpose of the uni is, that pasty slovenly drunk!

Oswald settles behind his desk again, but he’s still seething and the silence only seems to aggravate him more. The diagrams are a mess and he groans, rubbing his temples. He was just getting to understand those!.. Stupid, stupid, stupid drunks and their inane activities!

Someone knocks on his door then, and Oswald gets up, still irked, and opens it with a scowl. He doesn’t expect to see James standing there and swaying a little.

“Hey, Oswald,” he says with some difficulty. “Oh hey, my mouth moves!”

“Yes,” Oswald says icily. “That’s how you’re supposed to form words.”

“No, I mean… the bagpipe! You can’t play that thing!”

“I wasn’t planning on it!”

“Ah. Good.” And then James just stands there, grinning like a total idiot, and if Oswald wasn’t annoyed and stressed, he might’ve found that a little bit cute.

“What do you want, James?” Oswald asks with a sigh. “It’s late and I need to study.”

“Yes! Right! About that.” James shuts up again, but Oswald raises an eyebrow and it apparently is prompt enough. “I wanted to app… alopo… aplo… ah, screw it. I’m sorry for the noise, there! Sorry.”

“Okay. Apology accepted,” Oswald says and moves to close the door, but the curiosity gets the better of him. “Why were you playing that thing to begin with?”

“Lost a bet. Guys made me play the bagpipe. Did you know how hard that is? There is _no way_ to get enough air. It just sucks all of it out of you like a vacuum cleaner!” James gestures wildly, trying to illustrate his words, and the pantomime looks dirty, and really, Oswald doesn’t need this.

“I see. Well, I really need to study, so please don’t play it again.”

“Won’t. Can’t. Hey! Is there any way I can make up for this?”

“No need. Good night, James,” and Oswald shuts the door and returns to his desk, determined to continue.

The diagrams still make no sense. Oswald reads through the theory section, marks the key points, traces the diagram 1A with his finger, and he’s almost, almost getting it, when there’s another knock on the door. He grits his teeth and opens the door, ready to give whoever it is a piece of his mind, but it’s James again there, still kind of swaying.

“Hey, Oswald,” he says and smiles.

“What do you want, James?” Oswald asks, not at all pleased to see him.

“So you’re studying. And it’s late.”

“Yes, James,” Oswald doesn’t make an effort to hide rolling his eyes. “I told you this in exact same words.”

“Right. So you need this,” James grins at him and shoves a cup into his hands. It’s coffee, black and steaming and invigorating with smell alone.

“Oh. Thanks,” Oswald nods, but then eyes both the cup and James suspiciously. “Is it spiked with anything?” He really can’t put it past them not to attempt some random joke at his expense, especially when drunk.

“What? No. I just made it in the kitchen.”

“Uh-huh. You. In your state.”

“Okay, I asked Lucius to. So it’s really safe. Want me to drink from it?”

“No need. Thanks again, James, now please leave me to my studies,” Oswald says and closes the door on James’ mumbled “Okay”.

The diagram’s meaning eludes him again. He shouldn’t have put off trying to figure it out, and now, when it’s so late, his mind isn’t working as usual and that’s irritating on its own. The coffee looks tempting though. And smells tempting, perking him up. And if Lucius made it, it should probably be safe... _ish?_ Lucius wasn’t one for silly pranks. And God, Oswald needs coffee if he wants to understand this unholy mess at all. He dares a sip, and it’s like fire lighting up his brain, black and bitter, and just what he needed. He traces the graph again and finally makes a correlation between the variables and he makes a pleased sound, delving deeper into it, except the knock interrupts him again.

“What?!” he demands, throwing the door open. James looks taken aback by his forcefulness and he holds out his hand defensively, some sort of offering once again gripped in it.

“Candy bar?” he says, almost placating, handing it to Oswald with caution. “Lucius says the brain needs carbs.”

“Thank you,” Oswald grits through his teeth, smiling venomously. “Now do leave me be!” And he slams the door in his face, not caring for being even remotely polite anymore.

He bites into the candy bar with vengeance, chewing furiously through his annoyance and irritation, and - _ouch!_  He accidentally bites his tongue, and it’s so sudden and painful and just generally unfair that Oswald can’t hold back an unmanly whimper. Today is clearly not a good day. And…

Oh damn. Oh shit. Oswald sweeps his notes away from the textbook and takes a good hard look. The diagrams he was struggling so much to understand were from a goddamn _different_ section. Not this one. No wonder it didn’t make sense, what’s worse is that he was so high-strung he made up the correlation! Oswald groans and slumps back limply in his chair. So much time and energy wasted because he should have started on this earlier in the day! But he went all out working on his Sociology paper, aiming for the perfect grade, and time flew by so fast, and…

Coffee’s gone. Another bummer. Oswald pours himself some water, ready to tackle the graphs again. He sits at the desk, checks everything once more - no need to repeat this embarrassing mistake, and starts reading.

There are energetic, if jarred, sounds of guitar chords outside his window. Very energetic. And then come the words.

_“Risin' up, back on the street, did my time, took my chances!”_

This voice is awfully familiar. _Too_ familiar, exactly.

_“Went the distance, now I'm back on my feet, just a man and his will to survive!”_

Oswald goes out onto the small balcony, cup of water in his hand and for once he wishes it was something stronger. Sure, there’s James under his balcony with a beatdown guitar, striking chords with vigour.

“What is the meaning of this, again, James?” he asks, too exhausted already.

James looks up, beaming at him.

“Hey Oswald! Just thought you need some pumping up during studies!”

“And ‘Eye of the Tiger’ is your idea of a good study song?”

James pouts a little. “It’s the most motivational one I know.” He strikes a couple more chords. “Now don’t mind me and continue, okay?”

It seems like there’s no quelling James’ enthusiasm in helping him study. Oswald sighs. Time for a little white lie then.

“I’m already done. Was going to go to bed actually, so…”

“Oh cool!” James perks up. “I’ll play you a lullaby then!”

He starts fingering the guitar strings in something blues-like, as determined as before.

“Goddamn it, Jim!” Oswald groans and splashes him with water and slams the balcony door shut. If he abandons his studies for the night and goes straight to bed with pillow firmly pressed over his ears, who could blame him?

 

He’s cranky all through the next day, in many ways thanks to James being everywhere he goes. His cheerful smile and a constant ‘hey, Oswald!’ not only grate on his nerves but also draw attention to him, and Oswald’s not used to one of this kind. People on campus usually looked at him because of his unusual appearance, his formal style, his limp. Not because one of the more handsome and popular guys talked to him. It feels like a prank and it also stings because - it shouldn’t. Uni should be a place of learning, not animal hierarchy. But one can’t escape these social constructs anywhere as long as one lives in society. Topic of his paper.

Oswald sits in the library, the ever-present low hum of rustling pages and hushed voices helping him concentrate. Unfortunately, that doesn’t last long. There’s a shuffle, and more voices, some annoyed, some worried, but Oswald can’t make out any words. He continues reading and taking notes for a good half an hour before he realizes there’s something definitely wrong in this library.

No white noise.

Oswald raises his head and sees James again, grinning at him from the other end of the desk. Oswald buries his face in his hands and groans quietly.

“What are you doing here, James?”

“Helping you study,” he replies, coming closer and sitting on the edge of the desk.

“Just how is your presence here helps me do that?” Oswald lifts his head to face James properly. He looks decidedly pleased with himself for some reason and that sets Oswald on edge.

“Well, you like it quiet when you study, right?” he grins. “So I made sure there was quiet.”

“It _was_ quiet! It’s a library, no one is loud here to begin with!” Oswald glares at James, but it doesn’t seem to have any effect.

“No it wasn’t,” James says, unperturbed, dangling his foot. “There was a guy who kept clicking his pen, a girl with headphones blasting too loud, and a bunch of guys with bags of chips. Now they’re gone and you can study in peace.”

The glare doesn’t work and that’s probably because Oswald is sitting. He’s not really intimidating like that, so he stands up to his full height and glares at James properly.

“I wish you didn’t, James!” his voice rises along with his temper. Ever since yesterday this guy has been insufferable! Just what the hell is his deal? Does he want Oswald to _fail_ his exams, make a laughing stock out of him? Oswald’s learned not to trust people long ago. “The library has a certain level of noise that actually helps you concentrate! Maybe if you focused more on your studies and not on messing with mine, you would’ve known that!”

James looks crestfallen. “Ah damn… And here I was trying to make up for interfering with you yesterday.”

“Really, James, you shouldn’t have bothered! I asked you to stop playing the damn bagpipe and you did, that was quite enough!” Oswald starts collecting his notes and his books, irked by James’ look. It seems like the only place where he might be able to study is his room, after all.

“But… that doesn’t seem like enough,” James says, and his voice is genuine. “I was an idiot and I wanted to help you…”

“Instead, you’ve been pestering me and interfering more!” Oswald stuffs his pens furiously in his bag, them scattering all around, and that doesn’t help him keep his cool either. “Why do you even bother, James?! Why can’t you leave me alone?!”

“I… I like that you’re so serious about studying,” he says, looking straight at Oswald and standing up as well. He only has a couple more inches over Oswald, but it still is infuriating to look _up_ at him again. What’s more infuriating is that James is _cute_ in his sincerity, his face all soft and sweet, and-- what the hell.

“I really admire you,” James continues. “And I didn’t want to mess it for you at all, so please tell me, what can I do to right this?”

“I dunno, James! Ask me out already, like a normal person would?!”

The moment the words leave his mouth Oswald realizes what he’d said and he clamps his hand over his lips immediately. He stares at James who looks completely taken aback, and feels his cheeks flush to the point of radiating heat. Oswald flees the library, not looking back, and when he reaches his room, he plops face down onto his bed, burying himself into the comforter, almost dead of embarrassment.

Where did that even come from? James only told him he admired his studious side, there was nothing that indicated he also wanted to jump his bones. Oswald groans. Damn those pretty people, distracting him with their blue eyes and brilliant smiles and…

A knock.

Oswald whimpers, not standing up.

Another knock.

No use hiding then. Of course whoever decided to pay him a visit is persistent, it’s just his luck. He gets up and opens the door slowly, and he’s only mildly surprised to find James there. And he’s blushing all over again seeing this face.

“You, uh, you forgot your bag,” James says softly.

“Oh,” Oswald reaches out to take it, looking downwards, thoroughly sheepish. “Thanks.”

“Did you... “ James pauses to clear his throat and Oswald squirms. However nice James has been, he definitely couldn’t have been pleased with the insinuation of his interest in Oswald, so he’s probably going to tell him off. Oswald would take it in stride, apologize for misunderstanding maybe, and would steer clear of James Gordon for the rest of his life.

“Did you mean it?” James says instead. “That you’d go out with me?”

Oswald’s head snaps back up to face him and James is… shy? blushing? What is going on?..

“I, uh…”

“Because I’d like that,” James says. “Can I ask you out?”

This feels like something else. Oswald is not ready to deal with this, he never was. He’s panicking, and he needs, something, anything, to buy time.

“Oswald?”

“Sure,” Oswald blurts out, while his mind is going in mad circles over this, “but only if I pass the exam.”

James beams at him, and it has a weird effect on Oswald, he feels warm and giddy and just really nice.

“Oh thank God, I thought you’d refuse!”

“Do you even get refusals?” Oswald asks despite his better judgement and he could smack himself for the self-deprecation that prompted this. “No, scratch that. I don’t want to know.”

Why did he agree in the first place? The thought to refuse never even crossed his mind.

“Oswald?” James reaches out to take his hand. “I’m not a playboy… I haven’t asked many people out to begin with.”

“James, that’s alright. You don’t have to explain,” Oswald says meekly, the touch so soft and unfamiliar it focuses all of his being on this skin to skin contact.

“But I don’t want you to think wrong of me, you know?” he squeezes his hand slightly and it feels so nice too. “What if you change your mind?”

“James, I…” No, never, never-ever, no hope at all, Oswald wants it so bad all of a sudden he’s afraid it’s _James_ who’d change his mind. “I need to pass the exam first.”

“True,” James nods with regret and lets go of his hand. “So tell me what to do and not to do and I will.”

“Please, no bagpipes!” Oswald bursts out despite himself. “And no popping in here every five minutes. I really need to concentrate.”

“Okay,” James nods eagerly. “Can do.”

“Also, if you think that someone’s being loud and interfering with me and you want to make it your business… don’t, okay?” he looks at James, trying his best to be convincing. “Either it won’t bother me, or I will deal with it myself.”

“Got it,” James nods again. “But can I come by sometime later? We could have a little break from studies together.”

Oswald eyes him suspiciously, but there’s nothing to indicate any ulterior motives in the way James looks. Maybe he shouldn’t doubt people so much after all.

“Okay. At six?”

“Works for me,” James grins. “See you at six then.” And just like that, he pats his arm and goes to his own room.

Oswald has trouble calming down after that. He paces the room, feeling awkwardly bouncy and restless. James really - God, he really did ask him out? Oswald pinches himself hard.

Nope. Not a dream.

But the idea is so alien. A date? Oswald was always an outsider, almost a pariah, stuff like dating going past him all through his youth. He resigned himself, thinking that just wasn’t in his future in any way. He hardly _liked_ anyone to begin with. Everyone around was, still is, so… lacking.

Would he find James lacking too if this date really takes place? Oswald desperately hopes he doesn’t. It feels so good to like someone, this weird bubbly feeling flooding him, and it’s especially nice that it’s James. Even if he was insufferable when drunk and misguided, he was well-meaning and _kind._ That’s a lot more than Oswald can say about the majority of his peers, and he knows the true value of kindness. It’s the thing that matters.

But to even get there Oswald has to hold up his end of this deal. He has to pass.

He reads his notes and makes new ones, his brain inundated with data, interconnected relationships of this and that, and he’s almost buzzing with it. Time flies, but with new incentive added to his previous one, and with no one actually bothering him, he manages to study a lot more effectively than before. He almost doesn’t notice the sound of the timer he’d set, and keeps writing, but, right on the dot, there’s a knock on his door at 6 pm.

Oswald opens the door to be greeted by James smiling at him. He’s immediately giddy again and damn his pale skin, showing everything, he feels it warm up again. He probably looks like a cooked lobster.

“Hey,” James says. “You ready for that break?”

“Sure,” Oswald replies, hearing his own voice as if from a distance. “I’ve made good progress.”

“Good,” he smiles, holding up a paper bag. “I brought snacks.”

“Come in then,” Oswald says, and maybe it’s not the best decision he could make, because now they’re not only alone in the room, they’re alone in the room with the promise of something more looming in the background, impossible to ignore, and Oswald feels dryness in his throat, and James is so close, and his brain short-circuits when he brushes past him and sits on the bed.

“Hope you like shawarma,” James says, taking out the wrapped food. “I found this really neat place, they make it so good.”

Oswald sits gingerly beside him and takes one. His stomach _feels_ hungry, but he himself isn’t, there’s something different than hunger filling him and it’s got something to do with his guest. He takes the bite anyway if only to distract himself.

“Good?” James asks, eyeing him as he starts on his own. Oswald can only nod - it is better than he expected. “That’s a relief,” James chuckles and starts munching.

“So what are you studying for?” he asks after a while.

“Statistics, mostly,” Oswald says, finishing his shawarma and reaching for water. “I’m struggling with it more this semester.”

“Really? I didn’t think there was anything you struggled with. You ace everything.”

Oswald scoffs. “Hard work, James.”

“Yeah, I know,” he swallows the last bite and takes a gulp of his soda. “Had to really cram it for Biology last time.”

“Really?” Oswald asks, because James never struck him as a studious type.

“Yeah,” he smiles. “I do want a good grade, despite wanting to party every once in a while.”

“I didn’t mean to judge,” Oswald ducks his head. Except he did it anyway, dismissing James’ efforts and… weren’t James’ grades pretty decent, actually?

“No, it’s fine. I know how it must look to you,” James says, rubbing his neck as if embarrassed. “You’re the only one I know who seriously aims for the summa cum laude here. And most just want to party.”

“There’s nothing wrong with a bit of partying,” Oswald mumbles, distracted by James touching his neck still, and staring almost despite himself.

“Oh?” James looks at him. “How come I’ve never seen you at any of the parties guys throw here?”

“I… I’m not one for those…” and he also doesn’t get invited, but James doesn’t need to know this. Oswald wouldn’t go if he _was_ invited, probably.

“It’s a pity,” James says. “I would’ve worked up the courage a lot sooner.”

“What, if I were a more outgoing person, a party one,” an easy one, “basically anyone but myself?” Oswald bristles all of a sudden, because what does he even mean, ‘work up the courage’, it’s not like this perfect handsome guy can ever have any troubles getting dates!

“Please, Oswald, I didn’t mean it like that,” James says, and his hand is on Oswald’s now for some reason, and how did that happen. “I meant it as then I’d see you more, and not just in class, where you’re so set on taking notes you don’t see anything or anyone else.”

This… James noticed him? They didn’t have many classes together, but… Well, Oswald always stood out from the rest, that was just the way it was. He was always the odd one out, never quite fitting in, no wonder he got noticed. He didn’t want to be noticed for his oddities though, he wanted, craved, to be noticed for his own sake. Oswald tries to slow down his mad spiraling train of thought before he works himself into bitterness again. After all, James didn’t say it like that. He should at least give him the benefit of the doubt.

“Why would you even want to? I’m sure you could choose anyone you liked,” he asks, avoiding to look at James, bitterness still seeping through. He so often got rejected just for being slightly different, dismissed for not conforming, it’s not making it easy for him to actually believe James is genuinely interested in him for _him,_ and not some elaborate prank or a bet, or an experiment. God, please let it not be anything like that. It would crush whatever sense of self-worth he has that isn’t connected to his achievements for good.

“Oswald,” James says, his voice firm and it makes Oswald look at him again. “I liked you when I first saw you, back on that first day. I’ve always wanted to get to know you better, but you always looked as if you didn’t want anyone to come close to you, and… I didn’t want to impose on you and ruin my chances. Stupid, I know.”

“James…”

“ _Jim,_ ” he smiles at Oswald softly. “You called me that before.”

Before? Oh. When he was agitated and angry and splashed him with water for attempting to play him a lullaby. Oh. Oh. Oswald is mortified by the memory, by his terrible behaviour, and blood rushes to his cheeks at once, and looking at James is impossible, and it is equally impossible to look _away_ from him.

“Jim,” he says, feeling the name roll off his tongue with unexpected sweetness, and Jim smiles softly, the look in his eyes flickering into something darker and then his face is close, so close, and Oswald’s mind is completely blank, and then he’s being kissed.

He stills at the touch for a moment, and James - Jim - pauses, but tries pressing his lips to Oswald’s again, unsure, just a light, light, light touch, and this tips Oswald over. He moves against Jim’s mouth too, no idea how it’s done, but the feeling of something so soft and so warm and so incredibly _good_ is enough to spur him on. Jim seems to smile and presses to him firmer, taking the lead, and his hands are somehow around Oswald’s waist and it’s overwhelming, and so, so wonderful, and Oswald actually moans a little.

Something shifts then, and Oswald is lying on his back with Jim pressing down on him, solid and heavy and somehow too perfect, and Oswald can only press his lips to Jim’s firmer and wrap his arms around his shoulders, and then there’s not enough air in his lungs anymore and he gasps, and Jim kisses his neck, running his hands along Oswald’s sides. Oswald trembles and whimpers, digging his fingers deeper into Jim’s shoulder, his knee lifting up higher as if on its own, and this brings him back to reality, as well as Jim too, and he stops and looks at Oswald in some sort of shock and then he gets red all over.

“Oh damn, Oswald,” he whispers loudly. “I didn’t mean to get so carried away.”

“I…” What, don’t mind? Like it? Never been kissed before? None of this seems right, and Oswald stares at Jim and then breaks out in nervous giggles.

“What?” Jim asks, a bit defensive, but smiling at Oswald in a pleased way.

“You should see your face, Jim,” Oswald giggles still, hardly able to calm himself. “You’re beet red!”

“Well, it’s hot in here,” Jim says, still defensive. “Hardly my fault,” he grins.

“You’re saying it’s mine then?” Oswald laughs out loud, and the little movements remind him that Jim is still on top of him, his undeniably hard body pressing to Oswald’s in all the right places and a few of the wrong ones… not that Oswald minds.

“I could say something corny right now, like yes, your fault for being so cute, would you believe me?”

“I think you’re trying to make me blush to get even!” Oswald laughs again, and Jim presses into him more, moving, and it makes the breath catch in his throat. “Jim,” he utters then, and he can’t actually look in his eyes and focuses on his shoulder instead. “I… I like this, I really do… but this is too fast for me.”

“Yeah,” Jim says, pushing himself up. “I know. I’m sorry.”

He rolls off Oswald to lie by his side and sighs. “I hope it doesn’t make you change your mind.”

“No,” Oswald rushes to say. “I just… I want to take it slower.”

“Sure,” Jim says. “We’ll take this however you want.” A smile sneaks into his voice then as he says, “Just know that you have this effect on me.”

And then Oswald blushes for real.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... the second part is soon to follow, I mean, it's 80% done.  
> Any feedback is greatly appreciated!  
> You can also reach me on [tumblr](http://lalaurelia.tumblr.com/) if you wanna chat, I'm always glad to - even if I have social skills of a rotten potato XD


	2. Those First Steps

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh, it seems like it's gonna have three parts instead of two. Sorry about that XD

 

 

They end up lounging on the bed, Oswald’s head in Jim’s lap as Jim reads his Statistics notes in random order, quizzing him late into the night. Somehow, talking about these things he couldn’t really get makes Oswald understand them better, and he has a solid grasp on the covered sections by midnight.

“Don’t know what you’re worried about, Oswald,” Jim says. “You literally ace everything.”

“It’s your help,” Oswald says with a half-smile. “You’re a great study companion.”

“Huh,” Jim runs his fingers through Oswald’s hair. “Usually, when we try to study with other guys, we just end up drinking and doing silly shit.”

“Lack of focus, James, no doubt.”

“Perhaps,” he brushes the strand of hair from Oswald’s forehead. “Plus they’re not too keen on it, well, except maybe Lucius.”

“It’s all in hard work,” Oswald says, closing his eyes. “No one just _gets_ it, you either worked your mind into a proper state for that or you didn’t.”

And this is such a difficult concept for some, because even if they acknowledged his achievements and his successes, they still dismissed them in the next breath by saying how lucky he was for having the ‘right kind of brain’ for this. Somehow this particular kind of praise left a bitter taste in his mouth.

“You’re frowning,” Jim says. “It’s awfully cute, but something troubles you, I’m sure.”

“So perceptive,” Oswald murmurs, focusing on the warmth of Jim’s lap and the hand still in his hair. “How come you pay me so much attention?”

“Told you, I’ve liked you for a long time… I, uh, tend to watch people I like.”

“Little stalker,” Oswald smirks.

“Hey! I’m not that kind of creep,” Jim protests. “Is it the exam?”

“No…” Oswald is unsure whether or not he should tell this to Jim. Maybe it’ll make _him_ change his mind about this whole thing, and it’s been so good and so pleasant, and if Oswald doesn’t nip it in the bud it will only hurt more after. Better not get used to this.

“Whenever people notice me, they… they’re negative about it. I look different from most, so it’s to be expected but it doesn’t make it a whole lot easier. But my studies… that’s inalienable from me, that’s what I have control over, and…”

“And?” Jim prompts him gently to continue, still playing with Oswald’s hair. It feels _too_ good.

“And people dismiss my hard work, just like that,” Oswald snaps his fingers. “So… I’ve gotten used to no one seeing who I am. I’ve stopped hoping someone would.” He gulps, but dives right in further. “And you paying me this attention… it makes me hope again.”

“You… doubt me?” Jim asks, his fingers stilling for a moment, but then he resumes his gentle stroking. “Well, I’m not surprised. Uh, I know it’s just words at this point for you, but I really want to _see_ you as you are. I’m really eager to know you. Let’s take a chance, both of us?”

“Sure,” Oswald agrees, because doubts or no, he wants this. He wants this with the same intensity he desires success and acknowledgement. Whatever fears he has have no bearing on this.

Jim leaves for his own room after a while, and it’s an awkward moment at the doors when Oswald wonders if maybe Jim would kiss him again, he hopes and waits, almost vibrating with it, and he nods even before Jim finishes asking if he could. It’s shorter than their first, but no less sweet, and Oswald is unusually happy when he finally goes to sleep.

 

They end up having these evening study sessions every day, and Oswald feels more and more confident with each one. He helps Jim with his subjects as well, being pleasantly surprised that Jim did put that hard work into his studies, and he wasn’t dumb, or slow. He has a different approach to it, but the results are the same. Oswald feels that he’s getting more and more attached to Jim with each passing day.

It’s not surprising. Jim has been kind all this time, and when he was irritated he didn’t lash out or made it someone else’s fault, - yet another point in his favour. Despite his popularity on campus Jim is almost reserved, and he prefers Oswald’s company to mindless drinking, and it makes Oswald appreciate him more, and also fear the future.

What if it won’t last? What if it works for now, but Jim would get bored after? Oswald frets about it, worried in the back of his mind, but whenever Jim comes to his room and kisses him hello, he can’t think of anything else he’d prefer to it.

Jim explores his boundaries with the promised slowness. Kisses grow exponentially hotter, hands dare to roam just a little further below waist, and sometimes Oswald just wants to tell him to chuck their promise out, and just show him everything Jim’s got… but he also notices that Jim enjoys this, their slow dancing, and if it’s pleasant for both of them, why mess it up? He can wait until after the exam. He totally can wait.

Jim falls asleep on him one night, too exhausted, and Oswald has no heart to wake him up. He watches him instead, Jim’s face relaxed and soft while he sleeps, the beginning of the frown between his brows smoothing out, and Oswald has an irresistible urge to kiss that little spot. He fights it the best he can, and he settles on the side of the bed next to Jim, trying not to disturb him, but as soon as Jim feels his proximity through his sleep, his arms wrap around Oswald, bringing him closer. Oswald feels a pang of doubt again, what if Jim thinks he’s someone else? someone past or future, and decidedly not him? Jim murmurs his name then, nuzzling his cheek, and Oswald relaxes. Maybe not the future, but definitely the present. It should be enough.

It’s when he overhears the talk he wasn’t supposed to that he desperately wants the future as well. Jim forgets his notebook in Oswald’s room, and Oswald goes to return it, but he hears his name through the door just as he’s about to knock and he stops to listen, despite himself.

“You’re so stuck on that freak Cobblepot lately, Jimbo,” he hears Bullock’s unpleasant voice. “How come?”

Ugh. Figures that Jim too would get the negative attention that clings to Oswald wherever he goes, and his skin almost crawls from embarrassment.

“He’s not a ‘freak’, Harv,” Jim answers, his tone cold. “I’d rather you didn’t call him that.”

“Alright, alright,” Bullock says. “But you spend an obscene amount of time with him, I’m curious.”

“I do it because I like it, why else?”

“Huh! Didn’t catch it at first, but what, you’re sweet on him or something?”

Oswald can’t help but listen even more keenly. Sure, Jim told him he liked him often enough, but it holds a different weight when confessed to someone else. Not more or less, but… different.

“Yeah,” Jim says. “Exactly.”

“Whoa. What does that scrawny ass even have?”

“Harvey,” Jim drawls warningly.

“No, I mean, he’s kinda cute? I guess? In an outlandish freaky way. But like, after dames like Lee or Barbara, why _him?_ There are plenty of hot guys out there if you fancied a bloke.”

Jim sighs. Oswald can almost see his shoulders sagging and that crease between his brows grow deeper.

“I can’t explain it, Harv. Everything about him feels right. I’m at ease. I want him to be happy. Want to be happy with him.”

“Huh. Who’d have thought,” Bullock snorts. “Of all of the beauties of the campus, you go for a tight-ass bookworm. Oh, Jimbo, you should’ve hung out with me more, you know?” He laughs and continues in an even more unpleasant tone. “So, about that ass… tight, is it?”

Ugh. Just when Oswald thought Bullock couldn’t get even more crude. Why does he even care what his ass is like? Another piece of that toxic alpha male mindset permeating the social interactions, no doubt.

“Not discussing this with you, Harv,” Jim replies sternly. “You wanna know what a tight ass feels like, get your head outta your own.”

“Eh, you’re no fun.”

Oswald can’t knock on the door after that, and he flees back to his room, red to his ears.

Jim is… so sincere. And sure, his choice of friends is kind of questionable, but he’s not afraid to stand up to them either. Oswald feels a strange kind of warmth fill him when he remembers Jim’s words. And his own feelings are so similar too, it’s so easy and _right_ with Jim. He wants it to last.

Maybe he shouldn’t be such a recluse though. It’s not like Bullock’s opinion matters, but Jim enjoyed parties before, he wouldn’t have participated if he hated it, and Oswald shouldn’t make him feel as if he has to give it up. He wants Jim happy with him after all.

It comes up in their talk that evening, when Oswald makes a second attempt at returning the notebook, a successful one, uninterrupted by unwelcome presence. Jim mentions that the guys from the neighbouring dorm are throwing a party next day, the last one before the exam week rolls in, and Oswald perks up, even though he’s trying not to let it show.

“Do you want to go?” he asks, watching Jim carefully.

“Well, I…” Jim rubs his nape, which is a sign for him holding back, as Oswald now knows.

“I think it’s a good opportunity to unwind,” Oswald says, contemplative. “I’d like that, I guess. The stress is starting to get to me, so I might as well try something new.”

“Really?” Jim’s eyes light up. “You’d go with me? Or…” he pauses, “do you wanna go alone?”

And what, get anxious and irritated? Or is Jim worried he might pick someone up, since those parties are basically just an excuse to get drunk and hook up?

“With you, Jim,” Oswald smiles and touches his arm. “There’s no point in me going alone.”

Jim kisses him then, sweet and gentle, and Oswald has to remind himself once again that it was his decision to take it slow. He has to remind himself of this so often these days.

 

He doesn’t want to stand out in his suit, but the only thing casual enough in his wardrobe is an old pair of black jeans, a lot tighter than he remembers, and it feels weird to have stiff fabric hug his legs so much, and he also has to borrow a t-shirt from Jim because he only has formal button-downs. Jim’s t-shirt, some band one with a purple logo, hangs loosely on Oswald’s shoulders and leaves his arms uncomfortably bare, but it has a hint of Jim’s smell in its threads and it’s encouraging despite being so unfamiliar.

The party is a mess of people, all bustling about, all hardly sober, and at first it’s too overwhelming for Oswald, but Jim is right there with him, his arm around Oswald’s waist, and it’s not that bad, after all. They take a couple of drinks, and Oswald isn’t much of a drinker so the buzz hits him fast, making everything seem kind of fuzzy. It’s even pleasant in a way.

Jim takes him to the dancing area, it’s awkward, but he smiles at Oswald encouragingly as he leads him, and they end up moving to the music, it’s not dance, exactly, but it feels nice. Jim’s hands are on Oswald’s hips, swaying him to the rhythm, and it’s dizzying and breathless, and Jim kisses him hard as they move, lighting up at Oswald smiling back at him.

Then Oswald is standing in some corner, catching his breath, as Jim goes to fetch more drinks. The lights are splashing around, disorienting, adding to the dizzying feeling verging on vertigo, and Oswald closes his eyes and tries to breathe deeper.

“The freak’s got some moves, huh?” someone says, and Oswald doesn’t think it’s about him until his wrists are suddenly pinned to the wall above his head and someone presses close to him. Oswald’s eyes snap open, but he can barely make out the shape of the man in front of him. It’s not anyone he knows.

“Not to mention a pretty sweet ass.”

What is it with people mentioning his ass lately, Oswald thinks and then he gasps when a rough hand lands on his buttock and pinches it. He has to fight back, push him off, but his arms are pinned and there’s a knee forcing its way between his thighs, and he tries kicking the man regardless and ends up losing his balance and sliding onto that knee more.

“Hell, if I knew you were so eager to get some, I’d have given you the D a long time ago,” the man says, groping him. Oswald tries to make some noise, but his voice is caught in his throat and no sound comes out. That’s not how he envisioned this going at all, and he desperately wants this horrible stranger to disappear along with his filthy hands, he only wants Jim’s, he only needs Jim, and he’s almost suffocating from helplessness.

“Get away from him,” he hears a voice from somewhere, and when his assailant turns, Oswald is surprised to see Bullock there behind him. He has a bored expression and a drink in his hand but he’s looking straight at the man with no intention to back off.

“There will be some left for you when I’m done with him, you know?” the man says, and moves that knee again.

“Find yourself someone willing, Draper.”

“Oh he’s plenty willing,” the man drawls and was it even possible for someone to have a tone more unpleasant than Bullock’s?

“Okay then,” Bullock says, his shoulders sagging and terror strikes through Oswald because he didn’t put any hope in him, but being abandoned like that is-- Bullock drops his drink and punches the man in his face.

The hold on Oswald’s arms loosens, and he pushes the man off and kicks him in the stomach for good measure because what even the hell, making him rely on someone else? making him feel so disgustingly powerless? he has to pay. Oswald kicks him again, not bothering to check where his kick lands.

“Easy there, Rambo,” Bullock chuckles but makes no attempt to stop him.

“What’s going on here?” Oswald hears Jim’s voice then, and raises his eyes to see him looking at the scene in shock.

“Well, uh…” Bullock supplies helpfully, glancing at Oswald. Huh.

“He’s made some unwelcome advances,” Oswald says then, straightening up, his voice suddenly sharp. “We’re teaching him that’s wrong.”

“What he said,” Bullock nods, earning a few points in his favour, and Oswald nods back.

He steps away from the man lying motionless on the floor, and makes his way to Jim. He takes the cup from his hand and downs it, shaken and tense and not really in control.

“Uh… maybe you shouldn’t rush it, Oswald?” Jim says, eyeing him with concern.

“I’m fine,” Oswald croaks, the alcohol burning his throat. “I want to dance again, do you?”

“Yeah,” Jim replies, his gaze still concerned, but he hands his drink to Bullock and leads Oswald back to the dance area, his arm firm around his waist again.

Oswald feels that fuzziness settle in once more, warm and disorienting, and he feels the rhythm of the music so much better now, almost losing himself to it, and Jim is all that he sees in the flashing lights so he ends up plastering himself to him in search of his lips, and when he finds them breaking away is impossible. Jim is all that he wants right now, all that he’s ever wanted, and Oswald’s mind is reeling from this revelation.

“Take me… take me back,” he whispers into Jim’s mouth, unable to let go till the very end.

Oswald doesn’t remember how they make it to his room. Oswald doesn’t remember who is the first to pull the other into the embrace, or whose decision it is to slam his back into the closed door as Jim places bruising kisses along his neck. Oswald remembers hearing moans and realizing he’s the one making them. Oswald remembers Jim’s hands buried in his hair as he tilts his head for better access. Oswald remembers them making it to the bed, and Jim removing his shoes, and he remembers whining because he wants Jim close, close, _close…_

Oswald remembers Jim removing his belt too, his hands so excruciatingly close to his aching cock he ends up jerking his hips, chasing their touch, only to have Jim sigh and brush his hair off his forehead.

“Lightweight,” he says fondly. “Adorable, adorable lightweight.”

The bed creaks with Jim standing up, and Oswald remembers trying to catch his arm but only succeeding in catching the hem of his shirt.

“Don’t go, Jim,” he mutters. “Please…”

And he remembers Jim climbing into bed with him and his arm draped around his shoulders, but when Oswald wakes up the next day, he’s alone.

 

It doesn’t feel pleasant, waking up, but it’s not as awful as books would have him believe. He doesn’t feel like he’s going to die, nor is there any kind of ache or pain. He’s just extra sluggish and somewhat crankier, but what else is new?

He sees a glass of water on his nightstand and some kind of letter propped up against it. It’s from Jim, he realizes, picking it up.

 _“Oswald,”_ it reads, _“Sorry, I had some stuff to attend to. Hope you’re feeling okay, and if not, take the pills.”_ Oswald glances to the nightstand and sure, there are two pills there. _“It’s painkiller. Try to take some protein and drink plenty of water. I’ll come see you as soon as possible. Jim.”_

Oswald smiles. Who’d have thought Jim was such a mother hen. He’s not feeling bad enough for pills, but he drinks water gratefully, and walks slowly to the bathroom to wash up.

His neck sports a couple of the most unmistakable hickeys he’s ever seen, stark against his pale skin, and bringing up memories of yesterday. Oswald traces them curiously, feeling warm all over. His foray into becoming more outgoing wasn’t exactly a success, but, but… He did enjoy dancing with Jim. And what came after. He only wishes the hickeys weren’t the only thing to show for it, but he’s also grateful that Jim didn’t take advantage of his state. He never feared that from him, anyway, only… maybe hoped a little? It’s so contradictory. Making that step feels like such a big thing, when it clearly isn’t, it’s just… sex. Students have sex all the time. Casual, too. He doesn’t want it to be casual with Jim. He wants it to mean something, he wants it to be… different.

Oswald groans. Jim is such a distraction, he wants to go to him at once and hug him or just be close to him, not stay all day in his room buried in notes and textbooks. But… it’ll have to wait. It will have to wait. There’s only a little bit left and then they’ll be done with exams.

Jim drops in on him in the afternoon, bringing snacks and his notebooks, and he glances at Oswald’s neck and blushes so much it was worth the wait, even if he acts a lot more reserved, and can’t even kiss him.

“What were you busy with in the morning?” Oswald asks after a while, taking a bite of the tuna sandwich, sitting with Jim on the bed.

“Just an errand with Harvey,” Jim says, avoiding to look at him for some reason, and his body is so rigid somehow, as if he’s afraid of making a wrong move, or any move.

“An errand… about what?” Normally Oswald wouldn’t press, but he has a hunch and no way are they avoiding this, for both their sanity.

“The police report,” Jim sighs.

“The guy from the party… Draper, was it?”

“Yeah,” Jim says. “Wasn’t his first offence. We reported him both to the police and the faculty.” He downs his coffee. “Hopefully it’ll make him rethink his attitude.”

“Jim,” Oswald says, putting his sandwich aside to straddle Jim’s lap and cup his cheeks, forcing him to look in his eyes. “Don’t avoid this with me. Talk.”

Jim looks at him, his eyes darkening, but he stays silent and tense.

“You think I’m traumatized?” Oswald asks gently. “Maybe I am. I don’t know. But I can’t bear you walking on eggshells around me.”

“I… I’m so sorry I couldn’t be there for you,” Jim says at last. “I should’ve been there to prevent that from happening.”

“You can’t protect me from the world, Jim,” Oswald says, stroking Jim’s cheek softly with his thumb. “Nor would I want you to. I think it’s better it was… like that. That it was me. After all, I wasn’t alone. I could fight back. And nothing happened.”

“That still doesn’t make it okay.”

“Jim… you…” Oswald bites his lip but he still has to ask. “You don’t want me anymore after that?”

“What?!” Jim’s eyes snap wide. “Where did that come from?”

“Touch me then, Jim,” he says, his voice trembling. “Touch me like you did yesterday.”

Jim puts his hands gingerly on Oswald’s waist, looking up at his face in hesitation. “Is… is this okay?”

“Jim,” Oswald can’t control his voice, it trembles and hitches all on its own. “You’re not him. You’ll never be like him. You’re not making me recall it. I want… I want _your_ touch. I want it so much.” He shifts his hips and covers Jim’s hands with his, pressing them firmer to his body. “So be bold if you want to.”

Jim groans softly and kisses Oswald hard, hard like he did during dancing, his arms tight around him. Oswald feels dizzy, intoxicated again from Jim’s want, and he opens his mouth for him, letting Jim’s tongue inside. Jim explores his mouth enthusiastically, moaning into the kiss, and his hands come to rest firmly on Oswald’s butt as he flops them both on the bed. Oswald answers his kiss, no less enthusiastic about it, grinding against Jim, and he’s so hard again, and Jim is too, and everything is so hot.

“God, Oswald,” Jim murmurs, gripping his buttocks tighter. “You drive me crazy.”

“That makes... two of us,” Oswald gasps. “Do something about it?”

“Can I?” Jim asks, snaking his hand to Oswald’s groin and palming him through the trousers.

“Please,” Oswald tenses up at the touch, it’s so much more exciting than doing it on his own, and that it’s Jim, Jim’s hand touching him like that, and oh-- Jim takes him out, his hand sure and hot and so unbearably good Oswald jolts his hips into it and spills almost instantly. Jim fondles him some more, clearly enjoying the feeling of him if the satisfied smirk is anything to judge by, and Oswald moans and reaches for him as well.

“You don’t have to,” Jim utters, his voice hitching.

“I want to,” Oswald says, husky, as he fumbles with his fly.

Jim’s cock is pulsing in his hold, thicker than Oswald’s and wonderfully hard; making Jim’s eyes glaze over when Oswald wraps his fingers around it. It feels so exquisite in his hand as Oswald gives it a few experimental tugs, eliciting a moan out of Jim, the one he’s never heard before, deep and throaty, and this is amazing.

“Do you like that, Jim?” he asks, finding his own voice growing lower.

“Y-yeah,” Jim manages to reply, and then Oswald squeezes him a little firmer, and runs his thumb under the head that is his own sensitive spot and, apparently, Jim’s not immune either, since he throws his head back and moans again.

This is something else. Oswald feels exhilaration fill him, a rush, a wave, more potent than anything he’s ever experienced before, and when Oswald slows down and makes Jim whimper he realizes that it’s control that gives him this, this high.

“You’re amazing, Jim,” he murmurs huskily in his ear, leaning over him and picking up speed. “Now come for me, would you?”

Jim spills all over his fist as if he’s been waiting for permission, and his hand grips Oswald’s buttock again, making him groan. He’s breathing heavily, his eyes still a little dazed, but he looks at Oswald and leans up to kiss him, hot and needy and perfect.

Not much studying is done after that.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this! Stay tuned for the last part~


	3. Lights My Fire

 

 

Oswald keeps thinking about it whenever he’s not nose-deep in his studies, and sometimes even then. It’s hard not to, especially when Jim comes over again, but even though they can hardly keep their hands off of each other, they refrain from the repeat - exams are approaching too fast now. Jim quizzes him mercilessly, kissing whichever part is closer when Oswald gets it right, and biting when he answers wrong. He calls Oswald out on answering wrong on purpose after a while, and Oswald ducks his head, sheepish.

“I’ll bite you as much as you want once we’re done, you kinky little thing,” Jim smirks at him.

“Deal,” Oswald grins back after sealing the promise with a kiss.

Then it’s Jim’s turn to be quizzed, and Oswald, to his immense delight, finds out that Jim is ticklish and he pokes him in his sides for every wrong answer, reducing him to a mess of giggles.

“Oh please, mercy!” Jim cries, trying to wiggle from under Oswald’s touch. Oswald grins and straddles him again, pinning him with his weight.

“Professors won’t give you any,” he leans over and gets kissed mid-sentence, forgetting what he was going for.

“I really like you like this,” Jim smirks. “You’re so cocky when you think you’re in control… but the thing is, I can touch you wherever.” And he proceeds to prove his point by sliding his hands all over Oswald, lingering at his back, his thighs, ghosting over his crotch and making Oswald shiver and bite his lip.

“You’re playing dirty, Jim,” he utters, “you know I want to touch you as well, but you’re still not done with your part.”

“Ugh, I know,” Jim groans, stopping. “I’ll get it, just you wait.”

 

The exams are merely a nuisance at this point, with Oswald much more focused on what comes after - but what exactly it would be he has no idea. They’re mostly doing everything out of order, and does that date even hold any meaning? But he’s still looking forward to it very much, as a chance to spend some time with Jim not dedicated to studying or… other kinds of things. Such pleasant things, too. Oswald remembers it in the middle of the exam and he blushes so terribly, he’s red to his neck and he bends his head more over his paper to try and hide it.

He’s never been more unfocused on the exams before, his head never so much in a different place, but it doesn’t have any effect except relaxing him, however unexpected that is. His study sessions with Jim helped him so much, it’s like the knowledge is ingrained in him now, printed onto him with touches and kisses and Jim’s affection. The oral part is even easier, since he has never had any troubles with speaking, but deeper understanding of the subject gives his eloquence a new edge, and the professor looks at him with a different kind of respect, and Oswald is elated. He knows he did well.

He goes to find Jim, his own exam starting after Oswald’s, and he finds him fretting in the hallway. Oswald sneaks up on him, covering his eyes from behind and whispers “guess who?” in his ear.

“Oswald,” Jim breathes, turning to kiss him. It’s so new still, getting kissed out in the open like that, despite the many kisses they’ve shared in his room, and it still catches Oswald unprepared and melts him entirely.

“How did it go?” Jim asks, ruffling the short hair on Oswald’s nape.

“Well,” Oswald says, the gentle touch sending shivers down his spine. He leans into Jim, revelling in the way his body is solid and warm and so welcoming. “Don’t go worrying about me though. How are you, Jim?”

“A mess,” Jim groans. “I don’t think I’ve ever been more nervous.”

“Why?” Oswald wraps his arms around Jim. “You’ve studied as much as I did, and you know your stuff.”

“I’m afraid to fail,” Jim says quietly, holding him. “Not only would it set me back, you probably wouldn’t want anything to do with me after.”

Oswald lets out a laugh.

“Is that what’s getting you hung up?” he raises his head to look at Jim. “I wouldn’t stop just because of that, Jim, do you really think me so superficial?”

“I think you so very super.”

Oswald snorts. “Well, I think you’re pretty super too, Jim. And I know you’ll do well.” He leans closer to whisper in his ear, “I thought about us doing it, during my exam.” Jim tightens his hold on him, compelling Oswald to add more. “I keep thinking about things we could do after we’re done with both our exams. Does this work as a good enough incentive?” he can’t help but smile up at Jim mischievously.

“Yeah,” Jim says with some difficulty, as if his throat is dry. “Can’t wait.”

And then it’s time and they have to let go, and Oswald kisses Jim for luck before he goes through the doors.

The wait is long. Oswald goes to get himself some coffee and he sits in the hallway, waiting, hoping for Jim to come out. He reads a book - just a book, a piece of fiction read for pleasure, not studies, - but it doesn’t hold his attention for long. He just waits then, looking out the window.

 

“Hey, sleepyhead,” Oswald hears, and when he opens his eyes, Jim is right there in front of him, but he’s not alone. There’s Bullock with him, and Lucius too, for some reason. Oswald blinks, confused. He didn’t mean to fall asleep.

“How did it go?” he asks, focusing on the important stuff first.

“Well, I think,” Jim grins, offering his hand to help him stand up. “Your incentive helped me focus.”

Oswald feels the blush creep up into his cheeks. Will he ever stop being so easily affected? And he said it to Jim, of his own volition, why is he getting all shy, just because some other people are there?

“So we were thinking of going out for a bit of drinking to celebrate getting through this. What do you think?”

“We still have to wait for grading, you know?” Oswald tilts his head. “It could be premature.”

“Told them so,” Lucius shakes his head, “but do they listen?”

“Eh, que será, será,” Jim grins.

“Let’s go then,” Oswald says, reaching for his bag. “Carpe diem and all that.”

“You guys’d better stop talking gibberish until I’m drunk enough to care,” Bullock groans as he leads the way.

 

They end up in a small pub not far from the campus, pleasantly buzzing with like-minded students, and it has a relaxed atmosphere despite the amount of people. There’s some music playing, a weird selection of last decade pop tunes Oswald would have expected from a- a gay bar maybe? But this place looks definitely not like a gay bar. Not that Oswald ever visited one, but he thinks it wouldn’t look like this, with dark wood panels and flags and old-timey pictures on the walls.

“You think that would be enough for you?” Bullock nods to Oswald’s glass of rum and coke. “You were throwing it back pretty expertly the other day.”

“I’m pacing myself, that’s all,” Oswald smiles tightly, taking a sip. The cocktail is unfamiliar to him, but it tastes nice, sweet, with just a hint of that stronger alcohol in it to make him a little wary.

“Well you’re a wild one,” Bullock shakes his head. “Don’t know what I expected anyway.”

Oswald bristles but Jim puts his hand on the small of his back gently, and Lucius comes back with his fancy green cocktail and pokes Bullock to make space for him, and the tension dissipates.

“Oswald, I’ve been meaning to ask your opinion on that organizational ecology article, the latest issue one,” Lucius says, leaning forward. “It raises some interesting questions.”

“Oh, right,” Oswald perks up. “I found the generalists versus specialists problem intriguing, but I feel it lacks a solid research base.”

“Ugh, Lucius, do you really want to talk about that?” Bullock groans, rolling his eyes. “Ask him what kind of babes he likes!”

“You can ask that yourself, Harvey,” Lucius smiles politely. “I’m more interested in what he thinks about the article.”

“And I’m more interested in relaxing,” Jim adds. “Does none of you want that?”

Oswald glances at him, and sure, talking with a studious person such as Lucius is nice, but… Jim is right there with him, tired and exhausted from fretting, and yet he still smiles at Oswald so gently.

“Sorry, Lucius,” he says. “Jim is right, we should relax and put our studies aside at least for today.”

Lucius nods, conceding, and sips his cocktail, but Bullock frowns instead.

“Aren’t you a pair all of a sudden,” he says.

There’s a distinct edge in his tone, verging on… hostility? Bullock showed he wasn’t a complete waste of space the night of the party, but maybe that was his highest point. Oswald thinks carefully, because on one hand - Jim’s friends, however unfriendly they are, on the other - things that shouldn’t be left to slide. He looks at Jim sideways and just take a gulp of his rum and coke instead. Jim needs rest. He leans into him, just a little, the contact soothing and letting him focus on the better things, especially when Jim sighs, relaxing against him.

“Ugh you guys are no fun,” Bullock grumbles. “You’re either bookworms or total slugs,” he says, eyeing Jim. “Gotta get you all drunk.”

“Do you want a drinking game, or what?” Jim asks, chuckling.

“I don’t care, as long as it gets you drunk and sucking less.”

“Okay, so… Never have I ever?”

“Sounds good,” Bullock nods. “So… never have I ever gone skinny dipping.”

Everyone drinks and Oswald looks around, confused. He’s only ever heard the name of the game, but not the rules, and…

“You never did?” Bullock asks, grinning unpleasantly. “Not surprised.”

Oswald smiles tightly. So the rules are that simple. It shouldn’t be hard then.

“Okay, I’m next,” Lucius says. “Never have I ever… gone skydiving,” and he’s the only one who drinks this time. “What? Really? You should try it, guys, it’s amazing.”

“I can’t believe you,” Bullock says. “The purpose of the game is to get drunk. So I dunno, say something dirty, say something everyone’s done! Jim, you show him!”

Jim blinks, suddenly put on the spot, and he thinks a little, frowning. “Uh, okay… Never have I ever visited a sex shop.”

He looks both bashful and defiant as he is only joined for the drink by Lucius who smirks at him conspiratorially. Bullock looks from one of them to the other, baffled.

“What would you need to go there for?” he asks, squinting at them. “You both have the only necessary part.”

“There’s more to it than just shoving it somewhere, you know?” Jim says, grinning. “Sometimes it’s good to put in an extra thought.”

“Thought, my ass,” Bullock shakes his head.

Oswald can’t help but feel a little pang of something in his chest, at the notion of someone _else_ Jim cared about, about some different person inspiring Jim to put in that extra thought, maybe even teaching him about it… It’s not like he’s jealous of Jim’s past, that would be pointless and silly, but he can’t help thinking how he compares. If he even does.

But no. Jim did say he felt _right_ with him. And the others, well, he wasn’t seeing them anymore, was he?

“Let’s hear it from the wild one, eh?” Bullock says, and he sounds downright derisive. Oswald decides not giving him what he wants in the split second it takes him to come up with something.

“Never have I ever…” he makes a pause, looking at his companions, “finished ten non-fiction books in a week.”

Lucius huffs a small laugh and toasts him with his glass, as they both drink.

“Ugh, if you’d said ‘seven’, I’d have joined you guys,” Jim says, looking at his own glass of whiskey cola as if it failed him, and Oswald is suddenly amused by this and he giggles. Jim smiles back at him, instantly lighting up.

Bullock just shakes his head. “Bookworms. Gotta teach you guys everything myself,” he says. “Okay, never have I ever gone to a strip bar.”

No one joins him, and he looks at them, snorting.

“I can’t believe you.”

“We have rather different ideas of a favourite pastime, Harvey,” Lucius says, patting his arm. “I think it makes this game interesting. My turn now…”

“Never have I ever set a kitchen on fire,” he says after some thought, and smirks when Jim joins him for a drink.

“How did that happen?” Oswald asks, looking at them both in amusement.

“I was tinkering with a small robot prototype there when it, uh, rolled an oiled rag onto the stove,” Lucius says with a small smile. “I was a teen then and I panicked, splashing it with water. Not a good course of action, folks.”

Oswald can’t help laughing, imagining the scene, and he looks at Jim expectantly, waiting to hear his story as well.

“It wasn’t anything cool like that,” Jim laughs too. “I was home alone and attempted to make some fried eggs.”

“How old were you?” Oswald asks, delighted.

“Uh,” Jim rubs his nape. “Sixteen?..”

Oswald can’t help the laughter bubbling out of him then, and he thumps his forehead into Jim’s shoulder, unable to help himself. Jim ruffles his hair affectionately, murmuring, “come on, it’s not _that_ funny,” but his voice is pleased nonetheless.

“Okay, so…” Jim starts, and Oswald straightens up again. He’s not going to miss anything Jim says.

“Never have I ever camped out overnight for concert tickets.”

Jim ends up drinking that alone, and he looks at them, suddenly shy.

“It was for Mum,” he says, staring into his glass. “She really wanted to go.”

Jim only mentioned his mother in passing, but Oswald got a distinct feeling that he loved her very much, was close to her too. Remembering his own mother, Oswald couldn’t help but appreciate Jim for this, and the softness he had in his face when mentioning her was so sweet and beautiful too.

But now Oswald has to come up with something himself, and maybe drinking his rum and coke again would be nice too… except he doesn’t feel the buzz from it, it’s either too light or he hasn’t drunk enough.

“Okay… Never have I ever,” he glances at Jim, smiling, “made out during studying.”

Jim toasts him as they drink, his cheeks pink, and it may not be alcohol, but Oswald feels definitely _buzzed._ And he remembers the way Jim kissed that spot where his neck met his shoulder, while he explained the intricacies of empirical analysis to him, and that memory alone is enough to make Oswald blush deeply.

“This I’ve gotta hear,” Lucius says, looking at them both with a wide grin, and Oswald suddenly realizes that Lucius is the drunkest of them all, because not only was he drinking a fancier cocktail than they did - who knows what’s in it? - he also drank the most. “Spill the beans, guys.”

“Well, you know, it’s not easy to resist when he’s lying across your lap with a book and the shirt rides up… I had to get my hands there,” Jim says, turning towards Oswald more, and his hand sneaks around Oswald’s back, mimicking his words. Oswald squirms a little, this open touching making him just slightly uncomfortable and wishing they were somewhere alone instead, but, but there’s no way he’s going to tell Jim to stop. He looks at him, his mouth slightly parted, and…

“Oh, I didn’t realize,” Lucius says. “That was both of you? With each other?”

Oswald glances at him, nodding, Jim’s hand so hot against his skin, and nothing really matters but that.

“Oh good. I didn’t know if it was my place or not, but I really wanted to say you make a very cute couple. You’re so affectionate,” Lucius continues amiably. “When did you start dating?”

And this makes Oswald kind of freeze and look at Jim, because… they’re not exactly _dating,_ are they? But if not, then what is this they’ve been doing and does it even have a name? And Jim’s been the one who took and gave Oswald his first kiss, first time, and not just when it relates to sex, Jim’s been a lot of Oswald’s firsts, and if they’re not dating, then who are they to each other?..

“Shortly after I’ve lost that bet and Oswald came storming into my room,” Jim grins, not missing a beat and only bringing him closer. “When he yelled at me, I finally got the courage to ask him out.”

“I didn’t yell,” Oswald protests, but he can’t say any more when Jim openly nuzzles his neck and his breath is hot against Oswald’s skin, and just that tiny bit of stubble is prickly enough to paralyze Oswald’s brain. He can’t help a tiny gasp when Jim tightens his hold on him.

“Ugh, get a room if you’re gonna make out,” Bullock groans. “I’m really not drunk enough for this.”

It’s like something snaps inside Oswald at this. Okay, so he’s not the best thing that could happen to a guy such as Jim, but Jim doesn’t think so, and Jim is here with him, and he was with him last night, and he held him and kissed him today in that hallway as if it was the only thing he’d wanted, and Oswald wants - that, too. He tilts his head just slightly towards Jim’s, slotting their lips together, and it’s hot, and naughty, and so sweet and perfect, and they really need to continue that, soon, _soon…_ And if anyone has a problem with that, they can shove it, he thinks, as he bites Jim’s lower lip and sucks it in before breaking away. Jim smiles at him, almost dazed, and most definitely pleased.

“That’s it, I’m done with beer,” Bullock says, standing up. “If I have to endure this in your company, I need vodka.”

Lucius chirps “I’m almost out, I’ll go with you,” and joins him on the way back to the bar, leaving Jim and Oswald alone at their table.

“What was that lip bite?” Jim asks, his eyes twinkling. “Unusual.”

Oswald ducks his head, daring to only glance at Jim from under his eyelashes.

“Your lips are _nice,_ ” he confesses. “I always want to bite at them a bit.”

“I loved it,” Jim says, licking his lips and smiling, and if that’s involuntary, that’s so hot, and if it’s not, it’s so damn seductive and Oswald likes both options.

“So did I,” he says. “But your friend clearly didn’t.”

“Harvey? Yeah, he’s being more abrasive than usual. Sorry,” Jim says, running his fingers over the back of Oswald’s neck. “I’m guessing he’s just not used to seeing me with such a gorgeous man. He’ll come around.”

“Okay,” Oswald nods, because what else can he do but take Jim’s compliment and reassurance? He just hopes there won’t be any more hostility. “I only care about your opinion anyway. And if you think I’m gorgeous…”

“So gorgeous. I want you on my lap,” Jim murmurs softly in his ear. “I want to hold you and kiss you all over, and to feel you wiggling on top of me,” he continues, his voice growing sultrier and sending tingling shivers down Oswald’s spine. “And then I’d love to give it to you long and nice and hard…” and then Jim blushes bright red, for fuck’s sake, and his voice drops, shy and husky both, as if words alone weren’t enough to make Oswald go crazy, “if you’d like, that is.”

“James,” Oswald utters, feeling heat flood him, radiating in waves, “if you don’t, I would hold it against you for as long as you live.”

“Gotta deliver then,” Jim says, and places a few kisses over his cheekbone.

“I could sit on your lap though,” Oswald muses, his breath picking up. “Make our company even more uncomfortable with us.”

“You tease,” Jim swallows hard, and drinks more of his cocktail. “I’m barely holding back as it is.”

“Holding back from what?” Lucius shows up, another fancy drink in his hand and a less disgruntled Bullock in tow.

“From checking out the wild one’s tonsils, no doubt,” Bullock says, settling a small tray of shots in front of him. “But you know, I’ve got enough booze, so do whatever.”

No, he will probably never stop rubbing Oswald the wrong way, no matter how good of a friend he is to Jim.

“With your permission,” Oswald says silkily, accentuating how little he actually cares for it, and slides onto Jim’s lap, curling against him and throwing his arms around Jim’s shoulders. Jim breathes heavily into the crook of his neck, winding his own arms tightly over Oswald, half-holding, half-groping, and his arousal is quite unmistakable.

Lucius grins and gives them a thumbs-up, and Bullock rolls his eyes, downing the first shot.

“You know, I really didn’t think you had it in you,” he says conversationally after he’s done screwing his face up after the drink. “Thought you were this meek little thing, only interested in books and studies. Huh.”

“You know what they say,” Oswald trails off.

“Yeah, yeah, books and covers and all that shit. Wonder what other surprises you might be hiding.”

“If you want to know anything, ask,” Oswald says, snuggling up to Jim more and unabashedly enjoying Bullock’s discomfort at this.

“Ever do anything fun?”

“Fun?”

“Yeah. Like… I don’t know. Go partying late into the night. Get high. Hook up with girls. Whatever.”

Oswald contemplates his answers but he really doesn’t feel like giving Bullock what he wants to hear.

“Yes, no, and my personal life is my personal business,” he says, grinning like a Cheshire cat. Jim chuckles into his neck.

“He’s got your number, Harv,” he says.

“He’s a piece of work alright,” Bullock shakes his head, gulping down another shot. “Okay, real talk now,” he says.

“I’m all ears,” Oswald tilts his head. Jim doesn’t waste time and starts nuzzling him again.

“Why Jim?” Bullock says, squinting, and is it inquisitive or an aftereffect of the shot, it’s hard to say. “I’m sure even someone as… unique as you could choose from many others.”

He’s not calling him a freak to Oswald’s face, at the least. Maybe because he has some decency. Or because he values Jim, and if it’s that… they could probably learn to tolerate each other. But the question still stands, and Jim tightens his hold on him as if he’s… jealous? Of those fictional ‘others’ vying for Oswald’s affection?

“You want to tell me he’s a bad choice?” Oswald asks, covering Jim’s hand on his thigh with his palm.

“Nah, he’s alright,” Bullock says, earning a snort from Jim and a muffled “thanks, Harv,” but he continues. “You’re just different. And it doesn’t always work out in the best ways.”

Oswald doesn’t need Bullock’s input here, he’s been thinking about it long enough on his own. Sure, he and Jim are different. Jim is more open, more outgoing, more… good. But he also can be reserved and almost shy, for all his guts. Oswald knows he himself isn’t like that. And isn’t it better that way? And… he really, really likes Jim. So kind and sweet and thoughtful, and the way their bodies react to each other is mind-blowing.

“Maybe you don’t know him as well as you think you do if you think we’re that different,” Oswald says, just a little teasing. “Jim is… unique. I want to cherish what we have, for as long as we have it.”

And maybe he shouldn’t have added that last bit, because his fears that this beautiful thing between them might not last should not be voiced out. Shouldn’t make him vulnerable.

Maybe he’s drunker than he thought. He shifts a little, and is immediately reminded of Jim’s hardness against his backside and the way his squirming affects Jim because he groans quietly into Oswald’s nape, the sound not heard but felt, reverberating through his whole body.

“Huh,” Bullock says. “Like I said. A lot of surprises in you.”

“I’ll be discovering all of those,” Jim says, his hands sliding over Oswald’s stomach, and it’s too nice to stay silent and Oswald bites his lip not to moan. Sitting on Jim’s lap was a miscalculation. His hands have the best reach, his mouth is close to Oswald’s neck and ears, and there’s that hardness in his pants that’s decidedly obscene - and it feels too good. Oswald leans back and looks at Jim, something like a spark flashing between them, and there’s nothing else left.

“Harvey, Lucius,” Jim says, his voice tense, and he’s not even looking at his friends, “I’m sorry, but we’re gonna go ahead. We’ll see you guys later.”

Jim stands up, still holding on to Oswald, and lets him off gently, but his hand is coming to rest on his hips, firm, so firm, and Oswald is both mortified and excited, and it’s all too much, too much of everything, overwhelming and exhilarating, and he has never felt this way about anything before.

They make it back to his room, somehow it’s always his room, and they just stand at the closed door, kissing frantically, too tense to even touch each other and it’s just their lips, their tongues doing their dance. Jim tastes sweet, Jim tastes hot, and Oswald cannot hold back much longer, so he’s the first to break out of their weird impasse, reaching out for Jim.

It’s like the floodgates opening, a torrent of passionate groping and kisses with too many teeth, moans from both of them and clothes taken off or unfastened in a hurry, and they’re on Oswald’s bed somehow, Oswald pinned down and his knees are spread apart by Jim’s.

“Oswald,” Jim says in a husky voice, lowering himself to nibble on Oswald’s neck. “I want you so much. I want you so damn much I don’t think I’ll last.”

He can only gasp, clutching at Jim’s shoulders, as Jim slides his hands over him, over his bare skin, igniting it with his touch as if he wasn’t hot enough already.

“Jim… it’s okay,” he utters. “Just touch me, Jim, that’s all I want.”

Jim smiles against his skin as he kisses a trail down his chest, taking whatever’s left of his clothes off of Oswald. Jim’s hands touch him everywhere, smooth and soft and hot, eliciting so many sounds out of Oswald’s mouth he’d be ashamed if it was anyone else but Jim. It’s never embarrassing with Jim, whatever they do, whatever they try. Oswald lies bare on the blanket, completely exposed, and it only makes him feel hotter - especially with the way Jim’s eyes rake over him.

“You’re so damn sexy, Oswald,” Jim says, splaying his fingers over his stomach. “I could look at you forever.”

“I’d rather…” he gasps as Jim slides his hand lower, almost touching his cock, making him tremble, “you didn’t limit yourself… to looking.”

Jim smirks. “Oh, you can count on that,” he says as he slides down Oswald’s body and props Oswald’s knees higher. And then Jim takes him in his mouth, just like that, wet and hot and so unbearably good that Oswald can only cry out and tense up at the new sensations, his knees pulling towards his chest more, opening him up for Jim. Jim’s hand fondles his sack and then withdraws, leaving just the wetness of his mouth on Oswald’s cock, just his tongue pleasing him, and when Jim’s fingers return, they’re slick and cold and probing Oswald’s opening.

“Ah!”

Jim breaks away, looking at him with furrowed brows. “Is this okay?” he asks, nuzzling at his cock.

“Y-yeah…” Oswald manages to say. “It’s just… strange.”

“Try to relax,” Jim murmurs, pressing into the opening more. “I promise you’ll feel good.”

Oswald tries, but with Jim’s fingers still at work and his mouth back on Oswald’s cock again, he tenses up more, his whole body taut. Jim lets him out of his mouth again to murmur “easy there” and kisses the inside of his thighs, leaving a wet trail, and Oswald never knew that spot was so damn sensitive. He sighs, the tension easing up, and Jim returns his attention to the opening, teasing it more, until his finger finally slips inside.

The feeling is so peculiar but at the same time the mere thought of _Jim_ exploring such a private part of him, of what it means and what’s still to come, makes Oswald flush even more. His skin feels like it’s on fire. He can’t hold back the sounds and moans, and it feels like everything is a cause for those. Jim hums, adding another finger, stretching him, and it’s doing something to Oswald, makes him - wild - no, shut up, Bullock, and _fuck off_ \- and Oswald arches his back as he pushes his hips towards Jim’s exploring hand, craving more, and deeper, and yes.

Jim picks up his pace, growing impatient in turn, and he lets out a sort of growl when he pushes a third finger in as well. “You’re so fucking tight,” he rumbles, his breath heavy. “Turn me on so much.”

Oswald pulls him closer because he wants, needs to kiss him right there, tasting a bit of himself off Jim’s lips, and this may be more audacious than he intended, but he whispers between the kisses, “Jim, give it to me,” sounding so raw, “long, and nice, and hard”.

Jim groans and breaks the contact, withdrawing, and then he grips Oswald’s hips tight and lines up.

Oswald looks up at him, their eyes locking, and it’s at once tense and so unfettered and free, it’s like nothing else exists except for them. He bites his lip, hissing, when Jim starts pushing in, a lot bigger than fingers, and so, so different, and he pushes inside Oswald more, more, seemingly endless, and then he’s finally fully seated, and Oswald can’t breathe.

“Oswald,” Jim utters, almost helplessly. “God, the way you feel…”

And then he moves, pulling back a little and then pushing back, the jolt breaking out a gasp out of Oswald, and his breath is illogically, inevitably connected to Jim’s rhythm now, and it’s terrifying and perfect at the same time, and Oswald can only answer, matching Jim’s pushes and pulls with his own movements as he digs his nails into Jim’s shoulders. He has never felt anything that could compare to this, that made him feel both so alive and connected, the ultimate feeling of _here and now_ coursing through his veins and seeping out in the heat between them.

“Ah, Jim…” he whimpers, “please…”

Oswald pulls Jim closer, craving his lips, biting on them between gasps and moans, as they move in sync, wrapped around each other, and Jim’s cock is brushing against a particularly good spot inside him every once in a while as he does, and Jim holds him so tight, and he never felt hotter. Jim strokes his cock and Oswald tenses up, arching in Jim’s embrace as he comes with a cry, everything shattering around in a splash of colours.

“Oswald,” Jim moans, “Oswald… fuck, you’re so, so…”

Jim still moves inside him, his rhythm still steady, and if Oswald felt that it’s been almost too much before, now it is definitely _too much._ His every nerve ending is on fire, everything is heightened and kind of sore, he has never been more aware of his body and of Jim’s, still inside, still so unbearably good inside that it’s almost impossible to take. Oswald squirms, latching onto Jim more, and he moans and he kisses Jim’s neck hard, and he scratches at his back, because this is too intense and he just can’t take it anymore.

“Jim…” he whines, every movement bordering on pain, but the kind that makes him want to continue with it and stop it at the same time. “Jim-- I c-can’t--“

“I’m-- I’m so close,” Jim says in that helpless voice again, and he almost collapses on top of Oswald, gripping hard at his hips, pushing deeper, deeper, as if even like this they aren’t close enough, Oswald’s cock trapped between their bodies and it’s also too much, too painful - too good-- too intense--

Oswald is tensing up again, and it feels as if he comes, yet barely anything leaks out and it’s almost hurting, but Jim is spilling inside him, reaching for his lips in a searing, mind-blowing kiss that leaves nothing else but the raw thrum of bliss beating through them both.

They lie entangled, breathing heavily, too spent to move. At some point Jim’s slipped out, and now Oswald feels weird sloppiness inside, strange, but hot with implications, and he turns his head in search of Jim’s lips again. The kiss is so languid, so sweet, the warm tingling and mellowness engulfing them, but before they slip off into sleep, Oswald lets out a small laugh.

“ _'Won’t last’_ ,” he murmurs at Jim’s curious hum. “Oh, Jim… what is you lasting, then?”

 

The next day they’re so lazy, revelling in each other’s warmth and closeness, and Jim just can’t stop touching him, can’t get away from him, and the shower is cramped but Oswald doesn’t want Jim to stop either. He feels remarkably relaxed and content, never more comfortable in his skin than now.

They go out to check the grading, and Oswald isn’t surprised to see his perfect mark there at the top, but it still gives him a thrill and it gets even better when Jim finds his own name as well, also at the top, and he squeezes Oswald so tight, excited and joyful.

“Told you,” Oswald says gently, kissing Jim on the nose. Jim laughs.

“Your good influence, no doubt.”

Then Jim sobers up and says he has something important to do, and he looks so forlorn at the prospect of parting with Oswald it could be almost funny if Oswald didn’t feel the same way. He nods though, but he holds on to Jim’s hand for as long as possible, and they kiss before they part, again, and again, and again, and it’s getting almost ridiculous, so Oswald pushes Jim on, urging him to come back quickly. He avoids looking at Jim’s back, for fear of just following him like a lost puppy. This feels so… unfamiliar, and frightening too.

Oswald really doesn’t want to think what will happen when this comes to an end. And… it will, won’t it? It can’t last, can’t be that perfect forever. But thinking about it would only sour what they have, and Oswald doesn’t want that. He wants… he wants Jim. He wants his kisses and touches, and he wants his insight and opinions and his support, and he wants to kiss him in the morning, like today, and he wants to encourage him when Jim feels unsure, and help him, and just be there for him, and just… The amount of feelings when it comes to Jim is almost confusing, so many of them welling up and it feels like he might just explode with all of those emotions inside. The word heartache isn’t just a word, after all.

Oswald takes a long way back to the dorms, but he still arrives there too fast. In the absence of definite plans and with no exams - finally! - he feels a bit lost. He sets to sort through his notes and textbooks, putting away those he’s done with for now, arranging his desk. He smiles, thinking about how with Jim they mostly did their studying on the bed. It was a lot more comfortable and pleasant, lounging there together, touching casually, and exchanging kisses. It was so… unbelievably right. So good. Like a dream.

Jim comes back in a couple of hours, when the day starts to decline. He’s chipper and he kisses Oswald enthusiastically, and pulls him so close he almost lifts Oswald off his feet.

“Want to step out with me for a bit?” Jim says, grinning. “I wanna show you something special.”

And so they end up walking to the park, and then up the trail, and Jim holds Oswald’s hand in his all the while, stealing glances at him, and he smiles when Oswald does the same and their eyes meet. It’s a bit difficult to walk uphill, but Jim’s hand is there, supporting, and so they reach their destination with Oswald just a bit out of breath.

“This,” Jim gestures broadly at the view from the top of the hill and it’s breathtaking. Gotham is laid out before them and bathed in the sun, not the grim city anymore, but a beautiful one, almost like something out of a fairy tale. Oswald takes it in, amazed, as Jim puts down his backpack and pulls a blanket out, spreading it on top of the grass.

“Come, sit here,” he says and pecks Oswald on the cheek when he complies. Jim then proceeds to take out sandwiches and chocolates, and a bottle of wine. He opens it and pours the wine into two plastic cups.

“Sorry it’s not really fancy,” he says with a note of shyness as he hands one of them to Oswald. “It’s what I could find on short notice.”

“It’s fine, Jim,” Oswald smiles tenderly. “I appreciate it anyway.”

The wine doesn’t taste like anything special, but it’s light, fruity, and it goes so well with the rays of the setting sun giving an even more golden tint to Jim’s hair that Oswald is sure it’s going to become his favourite. He continues to look at Jim as he unwraps the food, Jim’s face so concentrated and serious, and it might be wine, but Oswald feels warmth flood him and burst in his chest when Jim lifts his head and smiles at him, radiant and beautiful and his. Because at this moment Jim is his, there’s no doubt about it, not in the way he looks at Oswald, not in the way he reaches towards him and kisses him, his lips tangy with wine and sweet, so sweet...

“Jim?” he says softly when they part and he can’t look away from Jim’s blue eyes.

“Yeah?”

“I think I love you.”

He holds his breath, having said that, his heart thumping madly in his chest. The look on Jim’s face is unforgettable. It becomes so open, so stunned and awed, and so happy, and Jim blushes crimson and then he reaches for Oswald again to bump their foreheads together.

“Love you too, Oswald,” he says with so much emotion in his voice Oswald thinks he might melt. He smiles and scoots closer to Jim to hug him and put his head on Jim’s shoulder.

No other day has ever felt so golden.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Finally finished this one! Hope you enjoyed this as much as I did!  
> The pub is based on a real place in London, btw~
> 
> Any feedback is greatly appreciated and I'm always up for talking on [tumblr](http://lalaurelia.tumblr.com/) too XD


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